Cristina Memories
by Esperwen
Summary: There was a woman in red who Ezio spoke to every time he had one of these memories.  Ever wonder who that woman was, why he spoke to her, or what they talked about?  Here is one possibility.  Ezio/Cristina Technically contains OC.  BROTHERHOOD SPOILERS
1. A Second Chance

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood. Or, any of the other games. Ubisoft does. If I owned the Assassin's Creed world, everyone would be happy and the endings would make sense. (Dear Ubisoft, YOUR ENDINGS. WHAT. THE HECK. ...just...just, WHAT?)

**SPOILER ALERT! I REFER HEAVILY TO ACTUAL EVENTS IN THE GAME. IF YOU DIDN'T DO THAT CRISTINA MEMORY, YET, DON'T READ THIS FIC! PLAY THE GAME, AND COME BACK LATER. SRSLY. PLAY THE GAME! Btw, every chapter will be centred around each Cristina Memory. So, if you've only played one memory, then just read the first chapter. That's easy enough for you to understand, right?**

* * *

Memory in a Memory; A Second Chance

Roma was starting to grow on Ezio. The master assassin had been hard at work since he had arrived a few weeks before, rebuilding the great city, and it was starting to pay off. Ezio had already freed a handful of Borgia towers, and rebuilt several shops in the vicinity. La Rosa in Fiore's renovations were almost completed, Bartolomeo's Barracks were no longer threatened by a neighbouring Borgia captain, and La Volpe was at least willing to cooperate with Machiavelli. Ezio's plans to overthrow the Borgia were slowly gaining support; he just wished there were other assassins for him to work with.

That day was especially lonely, for the last male Auditore. The tall man suppressed a sigh as he walked Roma's busy streets. St. Valentine's Day was fast approaching, and lovers were everywhere. Before him, a couple held hands while buying fruits together. To his left, another couple shared an intimate moment as they sat on a bench together; or rather, he sat on the bench and she perched on his lap. And to his right, a small boy with a gap in his teeth offered a little girl a daisy.

_Ridiculous,_ Ezio thought, slightly nauseated at all the romance around him.

To think that he had once loved the holiday. But, alas, no longer. The man's heart had grown hard, to such things.

After a few minutes of almost wading through all of Roma's lovers, Ezio considered climbing up a ladder and running across rooftops to avoid all the romance. It would be easy, and he would not have to deal with besotted eyes everywhere. He almost did it, too; walking into one of Roma's market squares, he knew that there was a ladder just on the other side that he could climb without arousing suspicion.

But instead, a flash of red caught his eye. Not the dark Borgia uniform red, but a brighter shade. Only a few feet away from him, there was a woman in a red dress, browsing a flower stall.

Ezio's chest ached a little when he saw that dress. It was the wrong colour, but the cut and make were exactly the same...

Merda_...why did I have to see that?_ Ezio cursed inwardly, realizing he had stopped in his tracks to stare at the dress, _As if I was not thinking of her already!_

The woman before him turned at that moment, to face Ezio. He blinked when he recognized her; he only knew of one woman always wore a simple masquerade mask with no eyes.

"_Buongiorno?_ Is someone there?" she asked, offering her hand in Ezio's general direction.

He hesitated, then took her slim hand in his own.

"_Si._ It's me," he said roughly, then brushed his lips on the back of her hand, "How did you know I was there?"

"Ah, _Signore_ Auditore," the young woman gave him that odd little half-smile of hers, "You have very sharp eyes, and they were boring into my back."

"_Mi scusi_, Micaella," Ezio mumbled apologetically, and was reminded about how he had first come to know this woman.

* * *

Micaella was a young, blind woman; she was once a servant, but had been turned out onto the street. The story Micaella told was that she was so clumsy as a blind servant that her master got sick of her and threw her out as a small child. La Volpe, however, told Ezio otherwise.

Micaella had not been born blind. According to the Thief Guild leader, Micaella's master had made several advances on her, when she started to come of age. She resisted him, but Micaella was of foreign blood which tantalized the master, so he continued to hound her. Finally, one night, the master's wife walked in on one of his coercions. She misunderstood, or perhaps refused to see the truth, and believed that it was the servant who was seducing her husband. In a fit of rage, the mistress grabbed an oil lamp and threw the hot, burning oil into Micaella's eyes, both blinding her, and destroying the beauty her master had lusted for.

Finished with her, both master and mistress turned their servant out of their home into the streets of Roma, where some of La Volpe's thieves rescued her. They taught her how to use her ears, nose and hands to replace her sight, and had trained her a little to protect herself. She could not do much for work, but she soon realized that people rarely notice the blind woman on the street, or forget that she is blind, and not deaf. Secrets are said a little too loudly, and plans are revealed that should have been whispered softer. Micaella offered her services as an informant to La Volpe, in return for the guild's protection, and she had been in their employ ever since.

Ezio met Micaella before he even knew La Volpe was in Roma. While he had been healing from his injuries from the raid on Monteriggioni, Micaella had been stationed in the area. He often saw her out the window, playing with some of the street urchins; they would try to sneak up on her, and she would tap them lightly with her staff as soon as she knew where they were. The children were enchanted by how she always sensed them so accurately, as was Ezio. He first spoke to her to find out how she did it; perhaps she could teach him to sense his surroundings in the same way. Micaella smiled and agreed that, should they both find a chance for a lesson, she would, but until then, he really should lie down; she could hear his uneven breathing from where she sat.

They got to know each other better as the days went by. Even after he moved to the hideout on Isola Tiberina, he often visited her wherever she was stationed for her company. He had developed a certain fondness for the strange woman. She was quiet and kind, with a witty but controlled tongue; she was a refreshing change from the courtesans' constant giggling, or the thieves' and mercenaries' raucous fun. Micaella was a constant calm in the storm that was Roma, and, in addition to that, Ezio sensed a deep-seated sadness in Micaella, despite her smiles and smart words, which he could relate to all too well. Ezio was glad to have found at least one friend in the great city; he was no stranger to loneliness, but as of late, the feeling cut deeper than it used to, and his new friend helped dull the pain a little.

Their friendship had fully established only a week before, shortly after the fake inn, La Volpe Addomentata, finished its renovations. They had both been there for its grand opening, as well as the small celebratory feast that was held that night. Ezio had meant to find a woman at the party to forget his troubles with for a while, but ended up taking a walk around the grounds, instead. Behind the stables, he found Micaella with some of the thieves' children, and the usual street urchins. She had been dancing with them to the music that was playing just across the way, with her skirt pulled up to her knees, laughing with them as they kept time with their feet. On a whim, he joined the silly party, first picking up Micaella and twirling her around in a circle, then doing the same with the other girls, and encouraging the boys to do the same. That was the first time he had genuinely smiled in over a year.

"That was fun!" Micaella had laughed when the music ended and the children were called to bed.

"_Si!_" Ezio agreed, leading her by the elbow to the inn, "I have never seen you laugh, like that!"

"Ah, well..."

She meant to smile at him, but it slipped into a half-smile before she could help herself. This always happened, Ezio noticed. In the middle of laughing or smiling, it was if she would remember something which sapped her joy away, and she would go back to her serene, almost aloof manner. Ezio pointed it out to her, that night; a little rudely, to be sure, but she was ever blue in his Sight, so he took a chance. Instead of answering, though, her mouth quirked a little, and she looked thoughtful.

"...You were once a very happy person, weren't you?" Ezio asked, watching her carefully to see if her aura changed. It never did.

"I..." the corner of her mouth twitched, "Well, yes. Once. So were you, I think, _Ser_ Ezio."

"Who, me?" he tried to joke with her, "Please, _mia bella_! Women want me and men want to be me! I am happy!"

"Not as you once were," she said candidly, and Ezio could just imagine her rolling her eyes behind her mask.

"Oh? And how would you know?" Ezio asked, almost scoffing at her.

They were almost at the inn, but Micaella stopped them from walking further. Instead she turned to Ezio and raised an eyebrow at him.

"How long have we known each other? More than a month?" Micaella shook her head slowly, "I have not heard you laugh at all in that time. A bit of a long while, don't you think?"

"Sure you have heard me laugh! I chuckle at your silly comments," Ezio pointed out, intending to win this argument.

"You never laugh like I did with the children, I meant," Micaella specified, with a small sigh; Ezio figured she was thinking something along the lines of, _Stupid, stubborn man._

"I could never. Your laugh is much too beautiful for me to mimic," Ezio smiled disarmingly, hoping to charm her to end the conversation.

Instead, Micaella raised her face towards him, as if studying him, somehow, even though he knew it was impossible. Just as he was wondering what she was doing, suddenly, she reached up at Ezio's face. He flinched, thinking she was going to slap him, but relaxed when all she did was lay it against the side of his face. She did the same with her other hand, touching his features gently. He was used to this; she often felt faces to better understand what people looked like.

"...See? I am smiling," Ezio said, when her fingers lightly brushed against his mouth, "Happy Ezio."

"No...not here," she touched around his eyes, "Or here," she touched just behind his jawbone, where tensed muscles were, "Not a real smile. I am not the only one here wearing a mask."

The tall man could not help staring down at her, stunned that she had made such an observation despite knowing so little about him. He then chuckled a little bitterly as he took her hands down from his face; idly, he touched the corner of her frowning mouth with a finger.

"_Bella mia..._I prefer your smile to this scowl. What happened to you?"

His teasing smirk faded into a sympathetic look when she answered him, almost too softly to be heard.

"My heart was broken. Simple as that," Micaella's lips twisted into a wistful half-smile, and she tapped the centre of Ezio's chest lightly, "As was yours, no, _Ser_ Ezio?"

* * *

"What brings you to the market?" Micaella asked at that moment, snapping Ezio out of his reminiscing.

"Hm? Ah...no reason," Ezio shrugged, looming over Micaella as if guarding her, "Just looking for a place less..." He looked around at all the affectionate couples and wondered what word would explain them.

"Crowded?" Micaella suggested, when Ezio's voice trailed off.

"Something like that," he nodded, watching Micaella closely, "What are you up to?"

Her hands touched each flower at the stand gently, feeling their petals; occasionally, she would lean forward to smell a blossom, before moving on to the next.

"I am looking for the perfect flower. Clearly," Micaella answered, giving Ezio a condescending smile.

"Oh? Perhaps for a stunning, young assassin with sharp eyes?" Ezio teased, then added, "He probably likes roses. White ones."

"Hm, I don't know anyone like that," she said, then, after sniffing another flower, "I do know a sharp-eyed assassin who is only stunning, though."

Micaella laughed when she heard Ezio splutter at that, and finally selected a flower. It was then that Ezio noticed she was holding three similar flowers already; one carnation and she was adding a third chrysanthemum. She held the tiny bouquet out to him.

"Help me. What colour are these?" she asked, raising an eyebrow to him.

"Red, red, yellow, and white," Ezio said, wiggling each stem so she knew which one he was indicating.

"Oh! Yikes."

Hurriedly, she removed the yellow chrysanthemum and put it back on the stall, almost as if it were about to bite her.

"...what was wrong with it?" Ezio smirked, as Micaella handed the flowers to the stall owner to be tied together.

"That flower meant 'slighted love'," Micaella answered, turning back to the stall to look for one more bloom, "One of my boys wants to tell a girl his feelings, and asked me to get flowers to give to her that said that."

"I see. What do the rest mean?" Ezio asked, stopping Micaella from getting her purse out and paying the stall owner for her.

"Oh, you don't need to-" she tried to protest.

"_Piacere mio_. So, what does this mean?" Ezio asked, taking the bundle of flowers.

The woman selling the flowers chuckled a little when she saw Ezio pretending to offer them to Micaella. But of course, the lady in red couldn't see it.

"What? What's he..." her face changed from confused to amused, "Is he kneeling? He is, isn't he?"

"_Si, signorina,_" the stall owner nodded.

Micaella sighed, not really in the mood to play along, then chuckled and decided to humour her friend.

"Oh, _signore!_" she said with exaggerated joy, clasping her hands together by the side of her face, "Flowers? For me! How kind! Oh, and such sweet meanings, too! Chrysanthemums are for long life and joy! Ah...what colour is this one?" she whispered, touching one blossom.

"_Rosso_!" Ezio whispered back, and winked at the flower seller when she giggled again.

"Oh, _caro mio_! You love me?" Micaella continued, as if she hadn't paused at all, then touched the white chrysanthemum, "With a loyal love? Truly? And-" she smiled when she touched the red carnation, "Your heart aches for me? _Sei romantico!_"

Abruptly, now that she was done, her face and voice fell from blissful to embarrassed, "Alright, now get up; we're causing a scene."

Still with his patented smirk, Ezio obliged, rising to his feet and taking Micaella's elbow. Gently, after he made sure she grabbed the walking staff that she usually used to get around, Ezio guided her out of the market, weaving her between groups of people, away from patrolling guards, and...oh, yes. The couples. As if he hadn't forgotten about them.

"_Cazzo,_" he muttered, averting his eyes from yet another public display of affection. It wasn't that he was embarrassed by them; only that it hurt when he remembered a person with which he once acted the same way.

"Hm?" Micaella raised an eyebrow and reached up to place a hand on his face as she walked beside him, "What's wrong, Ser Ezio?"

"Nothing, _non importa_," Ezio lied, shaking his head.

He tried moving his face away from her hand, but she had already noticed something in the muscles at the corner of his mouth.

Almost like he was wincing in pain, she thought. And she had a feeling she knew what that painful thing was.

Micaella waited a moment before saying, almost casually, "St. Valentine's Day is in a few days."

Ezio grunted once, swatting her hand away from his face irritably with the hand that held her bouquet. The young woman's words could sometimes hit too close to home; usually it was charming, but this case was an exception.

"Be careful with Natanaele's flowers!" Micaella exclaimed, _It took so long for me to select them!_

She managed to get her hand on Ezio's shoulder, and, sliding down his arm as a guide, she grabbed his wrist and took the flowers from his hand.

"Fine, take them!" Ezio snapped, then, regretting his tone, "...the flowers are fine."

"...yes, they are," Micaella nodded, after checking them herself, "...you truly hate St. Valentine's Day, don't you?"

"Not...no," Ezio denied, struggling for the right words, "I just...don't...like it."

Micaella gave him a knowing look. He relented.

"_Mamma mia, _this girl! Fine! I hate St. Valentine's Day!" Ezio sighed heavily, earning himself a strange look from a passerby.

"What a strange man..." they both heard him say, but they ignored it. It wasn't as if he would alert a Borgia soldier about a man hating the day of love.

Micaella and Ezio walked Roma's streets together in silence, for a few moments, lost in their own thoughts; Micaella sensed she had annoyed her friend enough and decided it would be better to give him a little space. The sky was starting to grow dark, Ezio noticed. Perfect. It suited his mood.

"...I used to love St. Valentine's Day," Ezio muttered, more to himself than Micaella.

"As did I," Micaella nodded, a pensive look on her face, "It was a magical day when any boy could suddenly turn out to be your love."

"_Si,_" Ezio agreed, "All the romance, the flowers...the silly, little pink hearts...I used to love them."

Micaella laughed once, then sighed. Ezio noticed that she barely stifled a gasp as she pressed a hand to her chest. He knew that pain.

"Did you meet him on...?" Ezio's voice trailed off, not sure if he should continue.

"No, no," Micaella gave him her little half-smile, knowing he meant the man that broke her, but trying to brush the topic off, "I met him on an ordinary day. I wasn't expecting him, at all."

"Love at first sight?" he guessed with a smile.

"Ugh," Micaella scoffed at that, "Not even close. We were children. ...Actually, I think I first saw him at a market place. Not that romantic, huh?"

"...Excuse me if I find your love story boring," Ezio said dryly. Micaella chuckled at that.

"What about you, _signore_? Would you care to tell me your epic love story?"

Ezio's smile slipped, then turned into a frown when he realized, "I met her at the...town square. With lots of shops and stalls. ...I met her at the market," he blinked, ignoring Micaella's laughter, "_Merda_...what were the odds of that?"

"Still feel romantic, _Ser_ Ezio?" Micaella smiled, and Ezio poked her side, annoyed.

"It was still love at first sight, for me," he insisted, refusing to give up on his story. His eyes and voice softened, as he remembered, "I saw her across the square...she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. When I told my brother, he urged me to talk to her."

"How brave! How did that go?" Micaella smiled.

"...it didn't start very well," Ezio winced at the memory, "I forgot to speak and kept smiling at her like a fool."

"From what I hear, you have a rather devilish smile. A very charming one."

"Not that time," Ezio groaned, rubbing his face with his free hand, "_Mio Dio_, what was I thinking? She thought I was a moron, and wouldn't even tell me her name."

Micaella patted Ezio's shoulder sympathetically, then urged him to tell her what happened next.

"Well, in spite of that...horribly embarrassing beginning, I managed to make her laugh before she walked away from me. I wanted to fix things, so I thought that I would follow her a ways; see where she lived."

"Hm..." Micaella sniffed her flowers once before commenting, "You don't think that was a little creepy, following her home?"

"I wasn't trying to stalk the girl! I just wanted to know so I could..." he frowned again, "...casually 'bump into her' from time to time...wait for her to come out so I could follow her around...watch what a day in her life was like..."

In hindsight, his gesture really did make him seem like some kind of stalker. Ezio started to wonder what else in his life had he done that was less charming than he believed it was.

"Alright, so you made her laugh, and followed her home..." Micaella nudged Ezio with her elbow, "Then what happened?"

"Ah!" Ezio remembered something that would redeem his tale, "Another boy was stalking her! I mean, another boy was actually stalking her. Ugh, Vieri!" Ezio frowned just at the thought of the boy, "We were never friends; I hated that guy!"

"What did he do?"

"He was always making fun of my family, talking down on it like his was so much better!"

"No, I meant with your lady..."

"Oh, right. He was such a _figli di puttana_...the girl would have none of him, saying she wasn't interested in him, but he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. I think, if I weren't there," Ezio's lip curled, "I think he meant to force himself on her."

"That's terrible!" Micaella was aghast.

"_E vero_!"

"...but you were there."

"_Si,_" Ezio's smirk returned, "I saved her. I beat Vieri's face in and sent him away, his tail between his legs like the dog he was."

"Did the girl see?" Micaella asked eagerly, and when Ezio murmured his proud assent, "That's wonderful! You were her hero! What did she say?"

"She thanked me, said I was very kind...and she finally told me her name," Ezio smiled a little; Micaella shared the smile when she caught all the notes of affection in his voice.

"...What was it?" she prompted quietly, when Ezio fell silent, her curiosity getting the better of her.

At first, he did not answer. After a few silent minutes passed, Micaella patted her escort's arm.

"Never mind," she said gently, "I don't need to kno-"

"Cristina."

At the sound of his voice, without hesitation Micaella took the hand that was at her elbow between both of hers, cradling it. He had said the name so tenderly...almost like a prayer. And his voice...his low, suddenly husky voice... She wanted to touch his face to know his expression, but he probably would never forgive her if she did.

"...her name is Cristina," Ezio said hoarsely, and Micaella gripped his hand tighter. She felt sick, hearing her friend's voice twist in such a way. How much heartache had he bottled up, to make him sound like that?

"...What a beautiful name," Micaella complimented softly, wishing she had better words to say.

"_Si. Tutti la Cristina e bella..._"

* * *

_Esperwen-_ Well, there's the first chapter for the first memory. The first memory was really funny and cute, and I tried to write the chapter accordingly. Angsty Ezio is a little painful to write, though... I'm more of a comedy/cheeseball romance writer, and bittersweet doesn't come to me easily, so help me out and toss me some constructive reviews!

Also, there's the first glimpse of one of my Portal-travelling OCs in the Assassin's Creed world! Don't worry, this will not be an EzioxOC fic. It is all about Ezio/Cristina.

What did you think of Micaella? All those memories surfaced when Ezio spoke to her, and I figure, why not make her a friend who's going through pain that's similar to his? And, since he doesn't know Micaella that well, yet, he starts telling her about Cristina from the beginning, when they first met each other.

Btw, this could _totally _have happened around Valentine's Day! Even if you don't try, you'll still have enough synchronization by the time "February 1500" rolls around to unlock this first memory. Or, if you try really hard, you still need to do all of those building renovations in "January 1500", and considering how long construction took in that time, finishing each building would have ended around early February. ...SO YEAH. Valentine's Day!

I will update this thing on my own time. I'm still in university and have a lot of homework; I shouldn't even be writing this now.

Half-butt translation: (I'm assuming you know all the other words from the game)

_Tutti la Cristina e bella = _All about Cristina is beautiful. ('k, so I can't actually speak Italian, so that was me cobbling together some words I learned from music score sheets and using French grammar. Please correct it if it's wrong!)


	2. Last Rites

Last Rites

Yet another day ended in Roma. As the sun set, the majestic city was cast in a rosy aura, its buildings seeming to almost glow in the dimming light. The white stone church in the northern part of the Centro District shone pink, the water in a nearby fountain sparkled red, and to a certain master assassin's eyes, the familiar, red dress his friend was wearing as she stood in front of the church seemed even brighter than usual.

Intentionally, Ezio scuffed his feet on the cobblestones as he walked, making noise to get Micaella's attention. He smirked when it worked; his friend immediately turned her head, and ears, to the sound of leather and metal scraping the road.

"_Salute_, Micaella," Ezio greeted, and, kissing the back of her hand when she offered it to him, "How are you?"

"_Ser_ Ezio," Micaella smiled, touching the side of his face gently, making sure that it really was him, "I am well. I have heard that you rescued _Signora _Sforza. Congratulations!"

"_Grazie,_" Ezio smiled against her palm, pleased that word had travelled so quickly, "What business brings you here?"

"I'm here for church," she answered simply.

Ezio's smile slipped when he heard that; Micaella felt his jaw tense. He knew better than to believe in a god, after all the things he had seen in the world.

"I did not realize there was Mass, today," he said stiffly, moving away to lean on the church wall behind Micaella and cross his arms.

"There isn't," Micaella shrugged, pretending she didn't notice his attitude and turning to face the town square before them, again.

Ezio raised an eyebrow at the back of her head, wondering, "Then why are you here?"

"My friend is holding last rites for two of her kin," Micaella answered, almost airily, "She invited me to come."

Hearing that, Ezio straightened up from the wall, suddenly feeling he had been overly rude, acting the way he had. Awkwardly, almost sheepishly, he shuffled his weight from foot to foot, trying to think of something to say.

"...It's all right. I'm not very close to her, let alone her family," Micaella said calmly, glancing back to throw her little smile at him, "And this isn't really the kind of church I would attend."

"Oh," Ezio relaxed, almost visibly, then raised an eyebrow when he read the name of the church on a nearby sign, "But this is your church. It has your name on it."

Micaella shook her head a little, amused, knowing that the place of worship was called "La Chiesa Dell'Archangelo Micael," meaning, "The Church of the Archangel Michael."

"Please, _signore_, I will never lead a league of angels to war," Micaella chided gently.

"You never know," Ezio smiled when she finally laughed, "...How long until the ceremony starts, do you think?"

"Maybe half an hour. Why?"

"I do not know your friend or her country's customs, but I have a feeling that wearing bright red at a funeral is a little disrespectful. Perhaps you should get changed."

"I'm wearing red?" Micaella was surprised, then added dryly, "It looked black in the dark."

Ezio chuckled, at that, "I thought one of the thieves at the guild helped you dress, every morning?"

"She does," Micaella answered, frowning a little to herself, "I told Lucia to dress me in black."

"Oh, _Lucia_?" understanding dawned on Ezio when he recognized the name, "_La donna_ loves bright, pretty things. She hates black, and probably didn't want to see you wearing it."

"Yes, but I can't wear red, today," Micaella reminded, then started tugging at her skirts, uncomfortable now that she knew what she was wearing, "What she wears on her time is her business...I should have told Lucia I was going to a funeral..."

Micaella's muttering fell to silence, as she wondered what to do with herself. All her belongings were at La Volpe Addormentata, on the other end of Roma. She didn't have any time to go home and get changed, but she didn't want to offend her friend, either.

"...Not to change the subject, _amica mia_, but is the service in remembrance of two?" Ezio asked, breaking the quiet pause.

"_Si_," Micaella considered for a moment how he could know, "...Is the funeral procession on its way?"

"It is," Ezio nodded, then patted her shoulder gently, "One of the pallbearers seems to need assistance. I'll be back in a moment."

...:...

When Ezio returned, Micaella was still outside, this time joined by her friend. While the stranger's face was tear-stained, the brunette's eyes were dry, and her face was not sorrowful but stony. When Micaella introduced her to him, Ezio reached out to take her hand politely. To his mild surprise, she ignored it, looking at him distrustfully, and left without another word.

"Forgive her, _signore_," Micaella said gently, putting a hand on Ezio's arm, "She no longer believes in nobles."

"I am no noble," Ezio pointed out, watching the other woman enter the church, _I lost my place in society long ago._

"Please. A blind woman can tell from your walk that you are more than we mere commoners," Micaella smiled, then sighed, "Adele's family was betrayed by a noble under the Borgia's thumb. Had it not been for that man, her father and brother would still be alive."

Micaella cocked her ears when she heard Ezio's breath catch, at that. The hand on his arm felt his muscles tensing, almost trembling.

"..._Ser _Ezio?" she asked softly, "...what is it?"

"Her...father and brother, you said?" Ezio clarified, a strange tone in his voice.

"I did," Micaella answered, then added, almost hesitantly, "A familiar story, to you?"

"Very," Ezio replied, his voice husky, "But my story had two brothers, one of which was little more than a child," he grimaced, "And at least _Signorina_ Adele had no trouble getting her family's bodies back."

Stunned by this bit of past revealed to her, Micaella made a sympathetic sound in the back of her throat, squeezing Ezio's arm a little. He grimaced bitterly at the memory.

"They were hung at the gallows, and cut down and moved before I could claim them. The _stronzo_ were going to throw my father and brothers into the river," Ezio growled, the old rage bubbling up inside him.

_Like garbage,_ Micaella thought, revolted at the callousness of it, "Did you find them in time?"

"..._Si._ Cristina _mia_ helped me find them," Ezio answered, calming himself a little, "She stopped me from killing the soldiers who were guarding their bodies."

_Good for her, _Micaella thought, silently thanking her.

"I had to sneak around for hours to take my family to a safe place for their last rites, but Cristina stayed with me," Ezio recollected, his arm slowly relaxing as he remembered, "I was so grateful for her...I do not know what I would have done had she not been there for me," he made a sound, somewhere between a chuckle and a repressed sob, "I had to leave the city, or else they would kill me, too. I asked Cristina to come with me."

"...she couldn't, could she?" Micaella guessed sadly.

Ezio shook his head with a sigh, "No. She couldn't...she still had her family to think about."

"...it sounds like she wanted to go, though."

Ezio was thoughtful, for a moment. It was true; Cristina had not denied him outright.

"Perhaps," he allowed, nodding a little.

"Did she give you anything to remember her by?"

"No...I gave her a pendant, so she might remember me. And then I left."

Micaella opened her mouth to ask another question, but they both heard a cough by the church's doors. Adele was standing there, clearly waiting for Micaella.

"The service is going to start, soon," Adele said tersely, and, without even sparing Ezio a glance, she disappeared into the building, again.

"You should go," Ezio said, then patted the hand that was still anchored to his arm, "I'll be all right, Micaella."

"You don't sound all right," she said, giving him a stern look.

"I have had over twenty years to heal, little angel. Adele has not had twenty days," Ezio pointed out, prying her fingers from his arm, "She needs you more, right now."

Micaella nodded reluctantly, then frowned again. Ezio saw her hands grip her skirts, still a gaudy, inappropriate red. Right. This was still an issue.

Thankfully, Ezio solved her problem for her. Micaella's eyebrows raised when she felt something large and a little weighty get draped over her shoulders.

"..._Ser_ Ezio, what is this?" she asked, feeling with her hands that he had tied some kind of cloth around her neck with a string.

"My cape," he explained, adjusting it so it fell over her left shoulder, "I had it dyed black for a mission, a few days back."

"...why would you need a black cape for a mission?" Micaella wondered skeptically.

"To compliment my green outfit," Ezio answered smoothly, "Now go. Best not keep them waiting. I'll find you tomorrow morning to get it back."

"You could come in with me," Micaella suggested, "They need the support. Adele is the oldest now; with her mother and three younger ones to care for, things will only get more difficult."

"She'll not accept support from a noble, I'll wager. And I am not the one here who belongs in a church, _angioletto mio_," Ezio smirked, then kissed Micaella's cheeks lightly in farewell, _"Arrivederci."_

"I thought you weren't a noble!" Micaella exclaimed, but already she could hear Ezio walking away, so she called after him, "And I am not an angel, _signore!_"

The young woman's half-smile was back on her lips. Her friend really was too charming.

But slowly, Micaella's face fell to a more serious expression. She had been about to ask if that was the end of his love story. It hadn't felt like his heart had broken there...only that they had been forced to part. She could relate to such a feeling; her time with the man she loved had ended all to soon, when she had been required to leave him. For weeks, it was as if a part of her had been left behind, with him. But she had never been able to return to him; Ezio had had the option. Above all other things, Micaella wanted to ask if Cristina had waited for him.

_Well...It really isn't any of my business,_ she thought, as she turned towards the church doors, her staff tapping to find her way, _But perhaps that is a memory for another day..._

* * *

_Esperwen: _Short chapter for a short memory. Not much really happened, in this one... =/

Half-butt translation:

_Amica mia_ = My friend (This is me pretending to understand Italian. I know the male word is _amico_, so I assumed the 'o' changes to an 'a' when referring to a woman, but if I'm just making this stuff up, tell me! *coughI'*)

_angioletto mio = _My little angel. Apparently, angels don't get a gender, so it's _mio_ even if referring to Micaella?_ *SO LOST*  
_


End file.
